Stuck
by loveadubdub
Summary: He's kind of suspicious of what pamphlet Ms. Pillsbury's about to throw in his direction. Like… 'You Suck As a VP: How to Step Down' or 'Guide to Liking Girls Who Like Girls.'


**STUCK**

…

He doesn't understand this test.

It's not that surprising, he doesn't understand a lot of tests. This one is dumb, though. It's history, and he doesn't care about the Industrial Revolution or whatever the crap it's called. He doesn't understand why he needs to know it, either, but he at least _tried _to study for it. He stayed up til midnight last night reading over the notes and the quizzes, and he thought he might actually be kind of ready for it. But he's not. He doesn't know the answers, and he's starting to panic a little. That makes it worse, though. When he starts to freak out, his dyslexia gets worse, and it's bad enough when it's semi-under control. All the words are floating together, and he reads the same question eight times before he finally understands what it actually says. And then he still doesn't know the answer.

The bell rings, and he has to make a choice. If he wants to stay later and keep working, they have to let him. The school board or the state or something says they have to give him extra time on tests if he wants it. So he has to choose whether to turn the test in half-finished and leave with the rest of his class or whether he wants to stay and keep working and try to finish. If he stays, he's going to look like a freak, but if he leaves, he's going to fail for sure.

He stays.

He wishes he had Mr. Schue for history, but he has Mrs. Miller who might as well be Satan reincarnated or something. She's like this forty year old woman who dresses like she's eighty and acts like part of Hitler's regime or something. She's so uptight and mean, and Sam can tell she's not happy when the class clears out and he's still sitting there.

"Are you staying, Samuel?" She's one of those irritating teachers who insists on calling him Samuel even though nobody's ever called him that except his parents- and they only ever do it if he's in trouble. So he hates it because it automatically makes him think he's done something wrong, just like on instinct or something.

"I just have a few more." It's a lie. He's only halfway done, and there are still four more pages of questions. But he's not going to tell her that. He'll just do what he can as fast as he can and get out before she has time to like put a spell on him or something.

It doesn't matter anyway. He doesn't know the answers, and he's getting frustrated looking at the words, so he just gives up. He hands in his paper and tries to offer up a smile, but Mrs. Miller just kind of narrows her eyes and takes his test without saying anything. Whatever, his head hurts.

He's late to glee, and Mr. Schue looks at him for some kind of explanation, so he just says, "Sorry," and grabs a seat on the end of the row without really looking at anyone. He's tired by that point, and he really just wants to go home, but he sits up and tries to pay attention while Mr. Schue tells them to start thinking of themes for Sectionals and some other stuff about this week's homework assignment.

He's zoning out, though, which sucks because glee homework is the only kind he's good at.

…

It's super weird at home because he's still staying at the Hudson-Hummels', but he's the only kid there now.

It wasn't as weird last year because Finn and Kurt were both there, and it was just like he was staying with friends or something. But now they're both gone, so it's just him and the adults. They offered to let him stay- he wasn't going to ask because he figured it'd be weird or something, but Carole called his mom over the summer and said they'd love to have him back so that he could finish out his senior year at McKinley, and that's how he ended up back at this house. He's kind of sure that Kurt's probably the one who told her to do it, but it's still nice. It's not so bad, and he's super grateful because he's really glad to be doing senior year here instead of that high school in Kentucky where he never managed to make any friends.

But yeah, sometimes it's awkward.

It's just him and Carole most of the time because Burt usually goes to Washington during the week and just flies home for the weekends. But it's cool for the most part. Carole's really become like a second mom to him, and he can kind of tell that she's glad to have him around because it makes her miss Finn and Kurt a little less. And she's glad to have somebody around to keep her company when Burt's out of town.

So when he gets home from school, he's not surprised to find her in the kitchen cooking dinner. She always makes way too much food, which is weird because she only started cooking for more than two a couple of years ago. But maybe she always cooked a lot, even when there were just two. Finn eats way more than Sam does, so maybe this was actually the right amount of food for them. It's nice, though. Carole's a good cook- not as good as his mom, but still really good.

She smiles at him when he walks in the door and asks him how his day was. He drops his backpack onto the table and leans against the counter where she's breaking noodles into boiling water.

"It was really long."

"How was your history test?"

He likes that she's involved, like she actually cares about him or something. It makes him feel really welcome, and he's grateful for her. But it makes lying to her a little bit harder. "It was alright. I think I did okay."

"That's great, sweetie!" She smiles at him again, and he smiles back because he doesn't want her to look at his face and know it's not true. Maybe she's not at that point yet, but his mom can always look at him and see when he's not telling the whole truth, so there's a good chance Carole might be able to, too. It's like one of those weird mom genes or something- like how moms can always feel your forehead and tell you if you have a fever, but random people at school never can.

"Yeah," he totally avoids her eyes when he turns on the sink to wash his hands so he can help. "Then in glee, Mr. Schue was trying to figure out what we're going to do for Sectionals, but we still don't even have enough people. So I don't know how we're even gonna compete." He changes the subject because he doesn't want to talk about that test or anything having to do with actual school.

"Doesn't this happen every year? I honestly don't remember a time when Finn wasn't complaining about a lack of members or something else crazy. I'm sure you guys will be fine."

She's right, and Sam knows it. They'll be fine, they always are.

…

There are all these empty seats in the choir room, and it seems like they get emptier every day.

Sure, they've got a few new kids, but it doesn't equal out to everybody that they lost. He can look around, and it's like nobody wants to admit how empty it feels in here. It's weird because for the first time since he's been in glee, he really feels like everybody in the whole club is actually friends with each other, but there's also this weird feeling like a ton of people are really just kind of alone.

He knows it sucks for Blaine and Brittany, with Kurt and Santana being gone. He knows it sucks for Tina, too, even though she and Mike aren't together anymore or whatever. But he thinks everybody might be happier if they all stopped focusing on what's not here anymore and start focusing on the stuff that _is. _

Brittany sits beside him every day now, and sometimes she leans against him or randomly hugs him. He knows he's just filling a void, but he sort of wishes she would at least realize what she's doing. And maybe stop.

But he won't tell her that.

…

She gives him half a Twinkie at lunch.

Like for real. She buys one out of the machine and breaks it in half so that they can each have some. He doesn't exactly eat Twinkies, and she must notice the way he's looking at it or something because she takes a bite of her own and says, "If we only eat half, we won't get fat."

He's not sure about that. Even half a Twinkie is still really bad. But then it's like… he hasn't had one since he was like ten, no lie. And it looks really, really good.

"Sometimes I wish I was fat." Brittany's eating super slowly, like she's purposely trying to enjoy every single bite or something. "It would be fun. I could just be jolly and happy all the time like Santa Claus or Oprah."

"You could just be happy anyway…"

Brittany shakes her head and licks some of the cream off the end of her finger. "No. Coach Sylvester puts us on diets if we get too happy. And cayenne pepper makes my nose hurt."

He doesn't know what she's talking about, but it doesn't matter. He's totally distracted by the way she's eating that Twinkie, and that's not really a good thing.

"Eat, Sam." She breaks off a tiny piece of her own and holds it up to his mouth. It takes him a second of hesitation, but he finally eats it. And God, he should never have taken that first bite.

"That's really good…"

"I know. So let's share it and both stay skinny."

He doesn't like referring to himself as _skinny, _but whatever. He eats the rest of the Twinkie, and he has a flash of all the extra crunches he's going to be doing before bed tonight, but it doesn't really bother him as much as it should.

Maybe that's a good thing.

…

He Skypes with his little brother every Wednesday after church, and he always ends up feeling a little more homesick afterwards.

Seriously, he's glad to be in Lima because this is the school he wants to graduate from and these are the friends he wants to graduate with. But that doesn't mean that it's all perfect because he still misses the hell out of his family sometimes. It's not like this is the first time he's been away from home or anything- he went to boarding school for a couple of years before they moved to Lima- but it feels different or something because he's got all this extra guilt now that he didn't have before.

His family's doing okay, and they've got a place to live and like electricity and all that, but there have been a few times when the Skype sessions have to be skipped or something because the cable and Internet bills couldn't be paid. And whatever, people can live without TV and the Internet, but it still makes him feel guilty because he knows if he was at home, they'd get paid one way or another. And his brother and sister would always have shoes that fit and like decent looking clothes and stuff. Maybe it's superficial or something, but he worries about stuff like that. He never had to deal with it when he was little because they never had money problems, but he remembers "poor kids" getting made fun of because they didn't have the latest sneakers or the best backpacks. He doesn't want his brother and sister to be the "poor kids," and it sucks that he's not there to make sure it doesn't happen. Sometimes people talk shit to him now, call him poor or whatever- everybody knows he was homeless- but he's seventeen. He can handle it and brush it off and ignore it (to an extent), but his sister's seven. She can't just brush stuff off, and he hates it.

His brother's full of news tonight, though, telling him all about the new snake that his class got for a pet. He keeps talking about how awesome it is and how they get to hold him if they want to, as long as they haven't had to pull any cards that week. "He feels super slimy, but it's so cool!"

"That's awesome." Sam smiles, trying really hard to be as enthused about the snake as Stevie is. He knows his brother is excited, so he doesn't want to be a douche or anything and like kill his excitement. But he's really tired and still has chemistry homework to do.

"Yeah! And Mrs. Kearling told us that if we get permission, we can take him home one weekend!"

"Did Mom and Dad say you could?" He _really _can't imagine his mom being down with a snake coming to visit, even for a weekend.

"Well, I didn't ask yet." Stevie kind of makes a face like he knows that wouldn't be successful. "But maybe if I'm really nice, they'll say yes."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Can you come home this weekend?" Stevie moves the computer a little, and Sam watches his image tilt. "I've got a football game Saturday, and I think I really get to play this week."

Sam makes a conscious effort not to laugh because he doesn't want to hurt Stevie's feelings, and he's not making fun of him anyway. It's just kind of funny because his brother's not exactly the most athletically inclined person in the world, and it's kind of amusing to hear him be so excited about actually getting to play for once.

"I'll try." Sam doesn't want to let him down, so he won't make any promises. "I have to see about gas and everything, but I'll definitely try."

"Cool!"

"Hey, it's almost nine o'clock. You need to go to bed." Sam checks the time on his laptop and wonders why his parents haven't come in to tell his brother to hang up yet.

"Okay. But try to come home, okay?"

"I'll try. I'll let you know, okay?"

Stevie nods and opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but he ends up rolling his eyes and looking somewhere to the left. "You're supposed to _knock, _Stacy!"

"Is that Sam?" Sam can hear his little sister's voice and then sees her pop into view of the camera a second later when she squeezes in front of the camera with his now very annoyed little brother. "Hi!" she says happily, smiling like she's thrilled, and knowing her, she probably is. It doesn't take much to make her happy.

"Hey, Stace."

"Look!" She leans in close to the camera and smiles wide to show off a new gap in her top row of teeth.

"Wow, did that hurt?"

She shakes her head and pushes hair away from her face. It's soaking wet, and she's in pajamas, so Sam assumes she's fresh from the shower. "Not really. And I got two dollars."

"Really"

She nods. "Yeah, but I don't think I can buy a lot with two dollars."

"If you save it up, you can get more money and then buy something cool."

"That's what Daddy said, too."

"You guys really need to go to bed."

Shockingly, neither one of them really argues much. Stacy just nods and says, "Okay. I love you!"

"Love you, too."

"Love you," Stevie sounds slightly less enthused.

"Love y'all both, now go to sleep!"

Stacy leans in close to the camera again, but this time she blows a kiss at it. "Night!"

"Goodnight." He disconnects the call before either one of them can get distracted and find another reason to push off bedtime.

But it sucks because there's a part of him that would kind of like nothing better than to talk to them for two more hours because he really misses them. But they have to go to bed, and he has to do his homework.

And hopefully he can scrape together enough gas money to make it home for the weekend.

…

There's an assembly, and Sam sits on the back row between Blaine and Brittany.

Ms. Pillsbury and some random woman are up front talking about graduation and college applications and financial aid and a whole bunch of other stuff. He checks out because it's boring and also because it's too early to be worrying about all that kind of stuff. He's not surprised, though, that Blaine's writing down like every single word and listening really closely. He wants to ask him if he saw that dude slip on a pickle right after lunch, but Blaine gives him this warning glare the second he starts to whisper. Oh, well. He's fidgety and bored, and he ends up pushing the armrest up so that Brittany can slide over and entertain him, but when he looks at her, she's sitting up super straight and paying attention to everything Ms. Pillsbury's saying.

And then when he tugs on her ponytail a little bit, she just looks at him and puts a finger up to her lips.

What the hell?

…

He gets his history test back.

53. Crap.

He shoves the paper into his backpack and keeps his head down for the rest of class. He should probably pay attention (he should _definitely _pay attention), but he feels dumb. And embarrassed. He knows Mrs. Miller's probably even more pissed that she had to stay late with him now that he totally bombed the test. She basically dropped it on his desk like it was a piece of trash or something. It kind of is.

He hurries out the door the second the bell rings and basically runs all the way to his locker. He doesn't know why, he just wants to get far away from there. He'd like to go home, but there's glee rehearsal, and he really can't miss it. He passes the gym on the way to the choir room and sees some guys heading into the locker room for football practice. He should have gone out for the team- he probably could have made quarterback- but he doesn't have a lot of time for it. He's got glee and student council and school and he goes home on the weekends sometimes. And then on the weekends he stays in Lima, he's always working at the garage. He's just kind of busy, so football didn't make it on his radar this year. But he misses it, and being QB would have been kind of awesome, especially since this is his last year and everything.

He's the first one in the choir room, so he takes his pick of the seats and grabs one on the top row. He likes sitting back here because it's easier to watch people. He thinks it's funny how Sugar and Artie act when they think nobody's looking (or at least when _Artie _thinks nobody's looking), and he loves how cynical Tina's turned about basically everything, so watching her get annoyed when people are off-key is kind of hilarious.

Jake's the next one in, and he kind of gives one of those half nods at Sam and just says, "Hey." Sam's not sure about Jake. He's cool or whatever, but he's not Puck. Sure, he might like scamming on girls or whatever, but he never just wants to hang out in the locker room or play video games after school. It sucks because nobody really wants to do that stuff. Sometimes Artie does, and Blaine does sometimes, but all his boys are gone. And it sucks.

Then Marley comes in, and she smiles at him and sits on the opposite end of the choir room across from Jake. Sam doesn't know what's going on there, but she obviously has a crush on him or whatever. Then again, she also seems to have a crush on Blaine, so maybe that doesn't mean much.

Everybody else starts filing in, and Brittany jumps over the first step, so she can sit down right beside him. That's normal, and he likes it. He likes not having to worry that nobody wants to sit with him, and it's a lot better having a built in partner for when Mr. Schue makes them pair off for stuff. It just sucks when they have to do choreography or something because Britt's the best dancer, and Sam's kind of the worst… But she doesn't seem to mind him tripping over his feet or whatever. She usually just laughs and helps him, but it never feels like she's making fun of him.

"I found my extra toothbrush," she leans over to whisper to him like it's a secret. "It was under the cooler in the cafeteria."

"I don't think you should use it…"

"Duh." She giggles, and he smiles at her, wondering if she knows how cute she is. She probably does. Girls like that always know how cute they are. "But how did it get there?"

He shrugs. He doesn't know how it got there, and he doesn't know how she found it.

"I'm going to ask Marley if her mom knows."

Well, he doesn't have any better ideas.

…

Brittany calls him that night when he's doing pushups instead of algebra, like he should be.

He stops to see who it is and answers because his arms are starting to hurt anyway. That's actually a good thing, but he's tired.

"What are you doing? I just tucked Lord Tubbington into bed. He wanted to wear his Spiderman pajamas, but I made him wear Batman."

"Why? Spiderman is way cooler. Batman's not even like a real superhero. He's just like this really rich dude who knows how to fight."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He doesn't have any superpowers at all."

"Then how does he turn into a bat?"

Sam shakes his head in disbelief and falls backward onto his bed. "He doesn't turn into a bat. He just wears a bat suit."

"I thought he was like a vampire or something. Like on Twilight."

"He's not a vampire. And nobody turns into a bat in Twilight, either."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. That's like Dracula or something."

"I thought Dracula was a vampire?"

Sam's confused. "He is…"

"Is he a superhero, too? If he can turn into a bat, isn't that a superpower?"

Hmm… He hasn't really thought of that, but… "No. That's just like magic. Not a superpower."

"Like a wizard? Like Jesus."

"More like Harry Potter, but… Yeah, sure."

Brittany seems to accept that because she changes the subject without any kind of warning or anything. "What are you doing this weekend? I'm going to bake the squirrels in my backyard a pecan pie if you want to help."

"I would, but I think I might go home. My little brother's got a football game, and he wants me to come to it."

"Can I come?"

"To Kentucky?"

"Yeah. I've never been there before, but I really like their chicken."

He sits up, wondering what his parents would say if he brought a girl home with him. They don't really know Brittany, but maybe if he tells them she has a girlfriend, they won't be weird about it. That's the same reason Carole lets her in his room now, which is kind of weird anyway, but whatever.

"Yeah, if you want to…" He doesn't know what else to say, and he sucks at saying no. "You might have to sleep with my sister, though. But she doesn't wet the bed anymore, so it's cool."

Or at least she doesn't wet the bed _a lot._

…

His parents don't make a big deal out of Brittany.

He tells them beforehand, to make sure it's okay and everything, and he specifically mentions Santana. They tell him it's fine and offer to pay him back for gas when he gets home. He tells them no because he knows they don't really have it and also because he should be able to afford his own gas. He just picks up an extra shift at the garage on Thursday afternoon, which is easy enough, since Burt always tells him to just take cash when he works. So it's cool.

His truck's a POS and barely runs sometimes, but it's usually okay on the highway, so he's not really worried about driving it. He's more worried about Brittany hating its lack of air and power-anything. But she doesn't seem to notice. When he drives to her house, she just runs out with a duffel bag and climbs into the truck beside him with a big smile.

"I love road trips!" and she seems super happy. "I brought Twizzlers." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a brand new pack, and then she takes one for herself and offers him one.

He takes it because it's there and also because chewing on something might distract him from the suddenly _very _distracting view of Brittany chewing on something.

…

So it turns out that his little sister is still obsessed with pretty blonde cheerleaders.

She acted the exact same way with Quinn, and apparently growing up a little bit hasn't changed that. She attaches herself to Brittany almost immediately and starts begging her to play with her and tells her she can sleep in her room and that she has lots of Barbies. For what it's worth, Quinn always played Barbies with Stacy, too (in fact, most of Stacy's Barbies _are _Quinn's, or were anyway), but the difference is that Quinn always played in a, _"Sure, honey, I'll play with you," _kind of way, while Brittany seems way more eager and actually excited to follow Stacy back to her bedroom.

"She seems nice." Sam can tell by his dad's voice that he's trying to be polite, but he's obviously wondering why she's so excited to play with a seven year old.

"I guess she likes Barbies." Sam's not really sure he needs to defend Brittany. He doesn't know why people can't just understand that she's different and that it's really a good thing.

…

He wakes up early the next morning because his brother's poking him and asking if he'll help him practice before the game.

He's careful not to hit his head when he sits up. He hates these bunk beds, and it seems like he ends up with a mini-concussion every time he's home. His bedroom here is way different from his room in Lima. This one is much smaller and a lot more cramped, especially since he has to share it with his brother. Most of the stuff in here is Stevie's, and there's really only a couple of things that belong to Sam. That's not surprising, though, since they didn't really have much when they moved to Kentucky. They'd basically sold most everything while they were still in Ohio, and the stuff they brought with them was all pretty much necessities that Sam's since took _back _to Ohio. Stevie's accrued some stuff here, though- some toys and like all his school stuff and everything. So that's mostly what's cramping up this tiny bedroom, that and a bunk bed that's too small for anyone over the age of ten.

He gets up and pulls on some pants so that he can follow his brother out into the backyard. The rest of the house is quiet, which isn't surprising since it's barely 7 o'clock on a Saturday. Stevie runs and grabs a football and tells Sam that he needs to practice catching it, "Because I kind of suck."

Sam doesn't laugh at him, even though it _is _a little bit funny. He just puts his quarterback training to use and throws to Stevie for like an hour straight before the backdoor finally opens and his mom comes out and tells them to come eat breakfast. Sam can smell bacon before he even gets to the door, and he doesn't realize how hungry he is til he gets back inside and sees breakfast that's so much better than the apple he usually grabs on the way to school.

Everybody's in the kitchen, and apparently Stacy's obsession hasn't calmed down at all because she's got a chair pulled right up beside Brittany and is showing her all of the stuff in her jewelry box that she's obviously dragged to the breakfast table.

"Sam, could you put on some clothes please?" His mother's talking out of the corner of her mouth like that somehow makes it impossible for anyone else to hear her. "We have guests."

He wants to point out that they only have _one _guest and that he does have clothes on. He's got pants on, he's just missing a shirt. But he doesn't really get the chance because Brittany beats him to it.

"Oh, I've seen it lots of times. It's cool."

Sam just stares at her and then chances a glance at his parents who are both looking at Brittany like she's crazy and also like they're about to commit a murder (_his _murder) in the kitchen.

"Not like that," she shrugs like it's no big deal. "Just… Sam likes to take his shirt off. I do, too. We have that in common." He seriously needs her to stop talking like _right now. _But she doesn't. "I've never been a real stripper, though. Just a fake one."

There's total silence in the kitchen after that, and Sam's never wanted to disappear and/or die as much as he does right that second. It doesn't matter anyway. Somebody's going to kill him within the next five minutes regardless. He might as well just kill himself and save somebody a jail sentence. Too bad the only sharp object within reach is a butter knife, and he's not really sure he can kill himself fast enough with that.

Somehow, though- _miraculously- _neither one of his parents seem to realize that she's basically telling them that he _has _been a real stripper. They both just kind of make confused faces and look at each other, and he can tell they're more at loss on how not to be rude or condescending to Brittany than they are on how exactly they should punish him.

They don't know about the stripping. They don't know that he lied about being old enough to be in a strip club and that he was doing totally illegal stuff. They don't know that he basically sold his virginity to a forty year old divorcee who gave him three-hundred bucks and pretended like she couldn't tell he was sixteen. As far as he can tell, they have absolutely no clue about any of it, and he totally intends for it to stay that way until they're all three dead and buried somewhere. He doesn't even want to imagine what would happen if they ever found out. His dad would probably beat him to death, and his mom would make him be homeschooled or something. He's not exactly down for either one of those options, so he kind of hopes to just keep it a secret forever.

Brittany's totally unaware that she's just created major tension in the kitchen, and she's eating a piece of bacon and trying on one of Stacy's plastic rings without paying attention to anything else.

She's kind of awesome like that.

…

He gets a lecture from his mom while they're at the ball game.

Britt's down by the bleachers with Stacy teaching her some cheer or something, and Sam's sitting in the stands with his parents waiting to see if Stevie actually really does get to play. So far, he's doing a really good job of standing on the sidelines and being appropriately optimistic.

"You need to explain to her that she can't talk like that in front of the kids." Sam just looks at her, and she rolls her eyes. "She can't talk about… strippers." She lowers her voice on the last word like she's cussing or like somebody is eavesdropping and is going to judge her or something. "The kids don't need to hear that."

"Okay, I'll tell her." He just agrees because it's a whole lot easier than arguing that Stacy doesn't even know what a stripper is and that Stevie's old enough to know they exist.

"She's just… a little _weird, _isn't she?"

"No." He looks over to where she's got Stacy cracking up at something. "She's cool."

"Well, don't get me wrong, she seems nice. She just seems a little out there."

"She's great. She's like the best dancer in the whole school."

"Really?"

He nods, glad that his mom doesn't call him on the subject jump. "Yeah. And she's really funny, too."

He knows his mom well enough to see on her face that she's really trying hard to be nice and not come off as judgmental or anything. And honestly, he knows she's _not _being judgmental when she says, "So she has a girlfriend?" in an even lower voice than when she mentioned strippers. She's not being judgmental, she just doesn't have much experience with girls who have girlfriends or boys who have boyfriends.

"Yeah. Santana."

"Santana? _Your _Santana?"

Sam rolls his eyes and looks out at the field where some of the worst football he's ever seen is currently being played. Granted the players are like nine and ten, but still. "She was never really _my _Santana, Mom. She only dated me because she didn't want to come out of the closet."

"Did you _know _that?"

"No, all I knew was that she was hot and that it would piss Quinn off."

"_Sam."_

He just shakes his head. Why is he even having this conversation? Especially with his mother? "Santana's at college. Britt's lonely. She's a good friend."

It's an easy enough explanation.

…

Going back to Lima always kind of sucks after he's been home, but going back to school is worse.

He has three tests this week _and _an English paper due. He doesn't want to do any of it, but he doesn't really have much of a choice. He tries to focus on it when he gets back, but Blaine keeps texting him every five minutes about some stupid student council meeting they've got on Thursday. Student council is alright, but honestly, Sam doesn't think they're doing a very good job of running it. Nobody really pays attention to anything they say, and it's just really boring. He knows he signed up for it and that he's committed to it now or whatever, but he kind of wishes they'd lost.

He kind of gets the feeling that Blaine sorta feels the same way.

…

His first period teacher tells him that the guidance counselor wants to see him during study hall, and Sam doesn't really know what Ms. Pillsbury wants with him, but he shows up to her office on time anyway.

"Hello, Sam." She smiles at him, bigger than normal and obviously kind of nervous-like. That's never a good sign. "How are you?"

"I'm okay." He's kind of suspicious of what pamphlet she's about to throw in his direction. Like… _You Suck As a VP: How to Step Down _or _Guide to Liking Girls Who Like Girls. _But she doesn't give him any pamphlets. All she does is smile at him again and then pull out a folder.

He can see his name on the little sticker- Evans, Samuel J. He knows it's his permanent record or whatever, and he's kind of terrified that she's about to tell him he's in big trouble for something and that it's going in here. He wracks his brain trying to think if he's done anything wrong, but he can't come up with anything.

"I've been looking over your file, and I'm concerned."

"Concerned about what?" There was that time in fourth grade when he got caught writing "penis-head" on the gym bleachers, but surely that didn't follow him all the way to high school, did it? He really can't think of anything else he's done that's bad enough to go on a permanent record and make his guidance counselor concerned.

"Sam, you're short a couple of credits from where you need to be. Two classes to be exact."

How can he be short? He stares at her, trying to make some kind of words that make sense come out of his mouth. "But… But I'm doing… I'm taking everything."

"You're taking everything you're supposed to be taking _right now. _But Tennessee and Kentucky have different requirements, and some of the classes you took there don't transfer for Ohio credits."

He stares at her. He seriously, like for real, doesn't know what to say. "But…"

"You can take them during summer school. As long as you pass all your other classes, you can still walk with your class at graduation and just get your diploma later." She kind of frowns, though, like she doesn't want to say the next part. "But Sam, your midterm reports aren't that great… You're failing two classes right now and barely passing three more."

"But I'm trying!" He knows he sounds desperate and pathetic, but he kind of is, okay? "Ms. Pillsbury, this isn't fair!"

"I know it's not. I know transferring all those times was hard, and I know you're trying. We can make it work. We'll get you tutoring and do everything we can to help you. You just have to really try, okay?"

He nods dumbly because what the hell else is he supposed to do?

…

"You're sad." Brittany sits down on his knee when she gets to the choir room and then hugs him around the neck. He's not really sure why she's in his lap, but he appreciates the gesture.

"I'm not going to graduate." His voice sounds as dull as he feels.

Brittany pulls back from the hug and looks at him. "Why not?"

He shrugs. He doesn't feel like talking about it. "I'll tell you later."

"I'll come home with you."

…

They're in his room after school. Carole's out with her sister, so it's just the two of them in the house, and he's surprised at how not weird it's starting to feel being here.

They've already eaten the casserole Carole left heating up in the oven, and Brittany's already taken over the TV before she finally brings it up. "Why aren't you graduating?"

He tells her the story, and she just watches him and listens. He finishes with, "So basically I'm too stupid to catch up on my own, so now I have to go to tutoring," and doesn't miss the way her eyes twitch a little bit.

"I have to go to tutoring, too. Well, I have to go to Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue. They ask me questions and try to help me learn stuff the way the teachers want me to know it."

He feels bad, like he just called her stupid or something. He wants to apologize, but he doesn't want to bring attention to it. "I hate always feeling like I can't ever keep up no matter what I do."

"You're not stupid, Sam. You're the smartest person I know."

He just looks at her. She's on her back on his bed with her head turned toward him. He's at his desk, leaning back in the chair and trying to see how far it can go. "I'm not even a little bit smart."

"You are smart." She sits up, and he tries really hard not to look at the way her skirt moves when she does it. "You always understand me. And you always know when people need to hear something. Being smart with books doesn't matter. You're smart with people, that's better."

It's not, but he doesn't say it. It's nice that she thinks he's smart, and it does make him feel better knowing she likes him and thinks he serves some kind of purpose that's not just being funny or making dumb jokes or whatever.

"I'll tell you a secret." She motions for him to come over there, so he gets up and sits down beside her. She gives him this little smile, and he hates how cute it is. "I'm kind of glad I didn't graduate last year."

"Why?"

"Because if I'd graduated then, I wouldn't really know you." He could point out that they've known each other for two years, but he knows what she's saying. "Santana's always been my only best friend. But now I have two."

He's more than a little bit shocked that she just put him on the same friendship level as Santana. But maybe it's true. She's his favorite person to be around lately, and if he was going to call anybody his best friend, it would be her.

"You make me miss her less." That same cute smile turns kind of shy and sad all at the same time. He knows she misses Santana. No matter what, she's always going to miss her.

"It's okay to miss her."

Brittany nods like she knows that. Then she says, "Who do you miss?"

"Everyone. Finn, Kurt, Mercedes, Puck… Mike, Quinn…"

"Even Santana?" She purses her lips, and he smiles.

"Yeah, even Santana."

"I know she misses you, too."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah. She might be having trouble finding a new mouth to make fun of."

"She'll save her jokes up for you."

He knows she will. She already has once.

…

Liking Brittany is bad.

It's bad because she has a girlfriend. It's worse because her girlfriend is Santana Lopez.

He's scared of Santana. She has razor blades, and once when they were dating, she threatened to use them on him. So he knows better.

But it's hard. It's hard because Brittany's so different from everybody else in the world, and now that he really sees it, it's like he can't _not _like her. He's not going to do anything about it because he doesn't want to look like an idiot, and she probably doesn't like him like that anyway. Plus he doesn't want to end up dead, so there's also that.

But sometimes when she hugs up on him, he lets his mind wander and thinks about what it might feel like to do more than that. Like if he could hug her back and think all the things he wants to think and not feel guilty about any of it.

He's used to wanting girls who don't want him back, so he should know how to handle it by now, right? Wrong.

Apparently that's just one more thing he's too dumb to learn.

…


End file.
